


At the End of All Things

by Sidonie



Series: The King's Squire [20]
Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Nonviolent Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidonie/pseuds/Sidonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jon calls his former squire to him as he fades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> Regardless of whether I add other fics to my King's Squire series (see "Proposal" for why it doesn't matter whether you read them in order), this is the last chronologically. A contemplative piece set at the end of Jon's life.

Zahir ibn Alhaz knelt beside the king's bed, his head bowed and his face grave. Familiar royal blue eyes fluttered open, undimmed by age. King Jonathan reached out a trembling hand, which his former squire clasped.

“Your hair is going grey,” the monarch remarked.

The knight bit back a laugh. “Yours has already gone.”

“Being the king and the Voice will do that to you.” He spoke more slowly now, with less clarity. “Do you resent me for that?”

“For what?”

“For making you the Voice.”

Zahir smiled wistfully. “No. I did, at first. But not anymore.”

“It is . . . a great burden, and a great joy.” The king paused. “Do you know why I chose you as my squire, Zahir?” The knight could have rattled off a list of reasons—progressive politics, the unity of the realm, curiosity—but it was a rhetorical question. He held his peace and waited for the answer.

“It was because when I became the Voice, I saw you. Here, at the end.”

Suddenly, Zahir couldn't have spoken if he'd tried. He cleared his throat and clasped his friend and liege's hand all the tighter, tears standing in his eyes.

The king gave a grin, less dazzling than in his youth. “I think you have also been a great burden and a great joy.”

And now he was laughing, because he could think of nothing else to do. “I could say the same of you,” the knight replied.

There was a comfortable silence, and then the king closed his eyes. “Do you love me, Zahir?”

“I have always loved you, Jon.”

A small smile at that. “Not always, I think.”

Zahir brought Jon's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it as the king—Voice, knight-master, friend—breathed his last.

“Always.”


End file.
